Coming Of Age
by Medusa -the writer
Summary: Set around Sam's 21st birthday – May 2004. This is a purely Sam-based story. Dean gets hardly a mention.


Coming of Age

By Medusa

Summary: Set around Sam's 21st birthday – May 2004. This is a purely Sam-based story. Dean gets hardly a mention.

Notes: A decidedly late submission to the Live Journal, Summer of Sam, Sam Love May/June Prompt. Challenge was to write a birthday fic for Sam. I'm basing the "facts" in this story partly on what we learned in the episodes 1.01 (Pilot) and 5.20 (The Devil You Know). The rest is creative license.

Contains slight but not obvious spoilers for Season 5.

Totally un-beta'd, so all mistakes are mine.

"Hey, Winchester!" Brady called out, a little too loudly in the hushed environment of the library, as he made his way through the carrels to where his friend sat studying.

Sam's head snapped up from the book he was engrossed in.

"Brady!" He hissed, turning and giving an apologetic smile to the other students around him.

Brady shrugged, uncaring of the disturbance he was causing. "What are you _doing_ in here, Sam?" He dragged out, with a definite whine.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm working on my paper for Weinstein's class. Like _you_ should be doing." Sam turned his attention back to the thick book open before him.

"Oh, come on, Sam. It's a great day outside…"

"So?"

"It's Sundaayyyy."

Without looking away from his reading, Sam replied again, "And?"

"And, it's your _birthday_! No one studies on their birthday."

Sam shrugged. "Just another day, man." Sam's slight hesitation and the clouded look in his eyes betrayed his aura of indifference.

Brady sighed dramatically. "It's _not_ just another day, Sam. It's your birthday. Your 21st birthday. The day you can legally get drunk!"

Sam shook his head. "Brady," he said, looking up at his friend, who had perched himself on the edge of the massive solid timber table beside Sam. "What makes you think that makes any difference to me? So what if it's the day that I can legally get drunk, I think _you_ want to use that as the excuse to go get drunk, not that you really seem to need an excuse these days, but I've got a paper due this week."

Brady's hands flew to cover his heart dramatically. "Ohhh, direct hit, dude!" At Sam's huffed laugh, he continued, "Just one day off, Sam. You can do it. Come and have a beer or six with me and some of the others. Unless you have other plans? A date maybe?"

Sam leaned back in his chair with another huffed chuckle. A date? Him? With his class load and working part time at the coffee shop bussing tables? When did he have time to date? His friend's persistence, cajoling and whining for Sam to put away his books and go join his friends for the afternoon to celebrate Sam's coming of age amused him.

Trouble was, Sam wasn't really in the mood to celebrate. It was already after three in the afternoon and he'd hoped that he would have at least had a phone call or text message from his brother wishing him a happy birthday, particularly since it _was_ his 21st birthday. Dean had always joked about how when Sam turned 21 it would be Dean who bought him his first legal drink. But since he'd last seen Dean, last spoken to him at Christmas break, Sam had heard nothing from his brother. They'd argued, because Sam refused to spend the holiday with their dad. Dean wanted them all together, not to celebrate Christmas - because the Winchesters didn't exactly 'do' holidays - but to go on a hunt that their father needed help with.

And Sam had once again told Dean he was done with hunting. 

Dean still just did not get it. Besides, Sam figured he was the last person his dad would want around. They hadn't even spoken since the day Sam had walked out the door for Stanford over two years before. Dean had called Sam a stubborn brat and they'd hung up the phone angry with each other, neither giving in to call back and apologize. Sam had hoped Dean would have at least called him today, on his birthday, but apparently Dean must still be mad at him and Sam was too stubborn to call him first, because that would look like he was backing down.

Sam stood up and closed the book in front of him with a decisive thud, dropping the lid of the laptop closed with his other hand. Maybe he did need to go out and get drunk after all.

"Alright," he conceded. "You win. Let's go get a beer."

Sam's friend clapped him on the back cheerfully.

"That's m'boy! You are going to have a blast, whether you like it or not!" He announced, all but dragging Sam to the exit.

Sam had to admit it was nice sitting in the warm spring sunshine, drinking cold beer. The bartender had checked his ID and, seeing that it was Sam's birthday, had wished him all the best and insisted his first beer was on the house. Brady had brought him his second beer, and then other friends had started showing up. Zack was there, and Louis. Jason, Chris and Don arrived when Sam was on his third beer. Somewhere during his fourth or fifth drink, Becky and a bunch of her girlfriends joined the group. The girls all gave Sam a hug and wished him happy birthday. Sam felt a little self-conscious, because he wasn't used to all this personal attention, but somehow he kinda liked it. The only thing that could have made the day any better was if Dean were there with him, too.

Brady plunked another full glass down in front of Sam.

"Sammy-boy, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine!" Brady pulled his companion forward until she was face to face with Sam, only inches away. "Sam, this is Jessica. Jessica, this is Sam."

Sam changed his mind abruptly The day had just gotten a _whole_ lot better. He stared dumbly, and more than slightly drunkenly, at the vision of beauty in front of him.

"Hi, Sam," Jessica smiled, shyly. "Happy birthday!"

"Um, ahhh," Sam hiccupped loudly, words failing him as the world spun dizzily around him. It seemed like the sun had fallen from the sky and now shone from that brilliant smile in that gorgeous face, blond hair a halo surrounding it. But the rest of the world was spinning and his stomach was doing a lazy loop-the-loop.

"Well say something, Sam," Brady laughed. And when Sam still remained tongue-tied he continued, "You wouldn't know to look at him that he was a four point oh!" He gave his friend a little shake.

The shake was the final straw. Sam's stomach flipped and bile rose up his throat. He barely managed to mumble an "excuse me" before bolting for the bathroom.

"Oooooooh, God," Sam groaned loudly, wincing at the volume of his own voice and rolling listlessly onto his back.

He was in his own bed back at the dorm, and he didn't think he'd ever felt this bad. His head was spinning and his stomach rolling dangerously. And what was that smell? He cracked his eyes open to see his friend, Louis, sitting at the desk on his side of the room, with a greasy brown paper sack dangling in front of Sam.

"Ugh." Blinking again, Sam asked, "What time is it?"

"Around ten," Louis replied with a smirk, jiggling the bag at his friend. "Eat this, it'll help."

Sam shot up, swinging his legs off the bed and into a sitting position, shakily batting the bag away. "I'm so late. I gotta get to class."

Louis pushed the bag containing Sam's greasy breakfast back at his friend, keeping him seated and avoiding taking a header onto the floor all in one smooth motion.

"Relax, man. It's all taken care of. I already told Professor Graham you wouldn't be in class today. You've got the day off, so eat, take some of these," he shook a bottle of aspirin, smiling at Sam's wince from the noise, "and sleep it off."

Sam flopped dramatically back down on the bed, closing his eyes and throwing an arm over them to block out the light. "How much did I have to drink last night?" Then a memory hit him of seeing the most beautiful girl in the world right before he made his spectacular exit to the bathroom and he groaned again, "And how much of an idiot did I make of myself?"

Louis laughed at Sam. He'd never seen his friend so uninhibited as last night, hell, he'd never seen him drunk. Sure they'd all had a few drinks now and then to relax or blow off steam but he'd never seen Sam have more than one until now. Sam just didn't like to lose control.

"Oh, I think you only had 'bout six or seven beers, with a coupla boilermakers thrown in along the way."

Sam groaned again. Dean had accused him of being a lightweight once, when he'd gotten blitzed after four beers when he was sixteen and they were alone, celebrating Dean's 21st, in a dingy motel room with their father gone on yet another hunt. Dean had opted to stay in with his brother, rather than go to the local bar where he didn't know anyone, to celebrate.

"Don't sweat it, man. It was all in good fun. Hey, I gotta run. Got a class in an hour and I have to get prepped. Make sure you eat this," he shook the bag once and dropped it on Sam's chest, "then get some more sleep. Happy Birthday, man."

At five thirty Sam had been at work for an hour. He still felt pretty shaky but he needed the money from his part-time job and couldn't afford to call in sick. One day of classes he could catch up on but he couldn't miss work. Struggling students were too easy to replace, and while his full ride paid for tuition and books, accommodation and meals, he still had to find his own money for incidentals. He didn't have family sending him allowance checks like a lot of his friends did.

He'd just picked up all the empty and not-so-empty coffee cups from one table, hefted the almost full tray and turned to head back to the kitchen, when someone stepped in his path. Sam usually had cat-like reflexes and on any other day would have simply side-stepped and carried on. Today, still recovering from his hangover, he was clumsy and sluggish. As Sam stepped left the tray slid right. He over corrected and juggled the tray madly, and although he recovered managing not to drop anything, one of the half-full coffee cups tipped over and cold, brackish coffee splashed all over the shoulder of the girl sitting at the table beside him.

She shrieked in shock.

Sam was mortified. He quickly put the tray back on the empty table and grabbed napkins to help the poor girl soak up the spilled liquid.

"I am so, so sorry!" He stammered, as the girl grabbed the flimsy paper tissues from his hands.

One of the girl's friends yelled angrily at Sam, "You clumsy idiot! You should be fired! Look what you did to her shirt!"

The girl, now sporting an ugly brown stain on her lovely white top, looked up at Sam right at that moment, obviously preparing to add her own angry tirade. But she stopped as soon as she saw who her 'attacker' was and sushed her friend.

"Sam!" She cried.

"Oh, God!" Sam felt even more terrible. "J-Jessica?"

He wished the ground would open up and swallow him. How did he manage to embarrass himself so badly in front of this same girl twice in as many days?

Right then, the manager appeared, spouting apologies to Jessica and her friends, telling them that their order would, 'Of _course_, be complimentary', and that Sam was fired. That shocked Sam out of his stupor. He couldn't afford to lose this job, even with as little as it paid.

"Wait! No, please. It was an accident," he pleaded.

"It's alright," Jessica smiled reassuringly at the manager. "There's no harm done. It really _was_ an accident. Sam shouldn't get fired over it. Please."

The manger glared at Sam, but relented. "If you're sure, miss. But that was your one chance, Winchester." Then he stalked off.

Sam blew out a sigh of relief. "I can't thank you enough," he said. "I really need this job."

Jessica huffed, "No one needs _this_ job. Old man Johnson treats all his employees bad. You should look for something better."

Sam shrugged. "The hours suit my schedule. I really am sorry about your shirt. At least let me get it cleaned or something."

"Don't worry about it," Jessica responded. "It's only a shirt. But maybe you could make it up to me another way…"

"Of course! Anything!" Sam was willing to do anything she asked.

Jessica stood and started to leave. She giggled to her friends for just a moment before looking back at him.

"Ask me out sometime," she said simply, and then she was gone.

Sam stood there, stunned, staring after her. She wanted to go out with him? Oh, wow. Sam decided he really owed Brady big for introducing him to Jessica.

"Winchester! Get back to work!" Mr. Johnson yelled from behind the counter.

The End.

Or rather, this might have been how it began.

Authors note: Timeline is loosely based on comments made in the Pilot episode set in Oct/Nov 2005. Dean and Sam hadn't spoken in 2 years and Sam and Jessica had been going out for about a year and a half.


End file.
